Georgia kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you so much. I love you, James McCloud.” He took her hand and kissed it as they turned their attention back to the band walking toward them.
There were fourteen musicians in all: twelve men and two women, each playing their instruments as they marched. Three fiddle players sawed away with their bows. A jug player puffed out a melody on an old piece of crockery. Some had bells or whistles.
“Is that man playing a saw?” Georgia asked with surprise.
“Sure is,” James replied. “If you never seen a saw player before, you’re in for a treat, darlin’.” Georgia watched in amazement as the man bent out a melody with his carpenter’s saw. The handle sat in a type of holster in his belt while he held the tip of the saw blade with one hand and a mallet in the other. As he struck the blade, clear high-pitched notes rang out. When he bent the blade at different angles the pitch of the notes changed. “That’s amazing!” she smiled. “I never ‘saw’ anything like it.”
Two guitar players strummed along and Georgia was delighted to see that Francisco was one of them. He was wearing traditional Mexican clothes and a wide-brimmed sombrero decorated with tassels around the edge. “Look it’s Francisco, honey,” she said.
“Yep. Playin’ a Spanish guitar, of course.”
“It sounds beautiful. I had no idea that he’s a musician.”
As the band assembled in front of the veranda and finished their first song, others from the ranch house came outside to enjoy the music too. Charles stood with one foot up on the railing, smoking his pipe and grinning from ear to ear. Aunt Martha was sitting on a chair nearby and singing along to the melody. David stood beside her with arms crossed over his large belly, grinning and tapping his foot. They all kept a respectful distance from the young lovers, however, knowing that this was a special moment for them.
The first song ended as the snare drum player snapped it to a halt. Then everyone on the veranda burst into applause. Some of the musicians bowed, others applauded in congratulations to the young couple.
“That was beautiful! Thank you so much, all of you,” Georgia said to the band. “I’ve never been serenaded before.”
“Gracias, Señorita Georgia,” Francisco replied, bowing deeply and taking off his hat to her. “It is our especial honor to play your first serenade for you tonight. Do the happy couple have any requests for our next number?”
“How ‘bout the Yellow Rose of Texas?” James said.
“Si, Señor James, it will be our pleasure.” He turned to the band, called out the key and they began with Francisco singing the lead vocal:
“She’s the sweetest little rosebud that Texas ever knew,
her eyes are bright as diamonds, they sparkle like the dew.
You may talk about your Clementine and sing of Rosa Lee
but the Yellow Rose of Texas is the only girl for me...”
“Oh James, this is so moving I think I’m going to cry,” Georgia said into his ear as she gripped his elbow tightly.
He turned and held out his hand to her. “I’ve got a better idea. May I have this dance, Ms. Warton?”
“Yes, of course you can, Mr. McCloud. Now and always.” They joined hands and began to waltz slowly around the veranda deck. David stepped up to the railing and signaled to Francisco that he would take the next verse. Fran smiled, nodded, and David began to sing:
“Where the Rio Grande is flowin’ and starry skies are brightening
she walks along the river in the quiet summer night.
We’ll play the banjo gaily, she’ll love me like before
and the Yellow Rose of Texas shall be mine forevermore...”
“David has a great voice, honey. I had no idea,” Georgia said.
“A man of many talents. You never know how a cowboy will surprise you,” James said with a wink.
“Oh, if I’ve learned anything since coming to Texas it’s that is very true,” she giggled. “How are you going to surprise me next, Mr. McCloud?”
“How about this?” he said, twirling her out from his body with his arm, then back in again and easing her backward into a deep, graceful dip on the dance floor.
“Goodness gracious!” Georgia smiled with delight. James held her close and kissed her on the cheek. “That’s rather fresh of you to do in front of all these people,” she teased.
“Sorry, I can’t help it,” he whispered in her ear. “You’re just too beautiful to resist.”
“Well then you won’t mind if I do this,” she said, kissing him sensuously on the lips.
“Shucks, now it’s my turn to be surprised,” James laughed. “I see that debutantes have a few surprises up their sleeves too.”
At the veranda railing, David stood beside Charles as they watched the couple dancing. David was a bit uncomfortable with the daring display of affection. “If this song don’t end soon we may have to break ‘em up out there,” he joked.
“Nonsense,” Charles replied, taking his pipe out of his mouth and looking at his friend. “Haven’t you ever been in love before, David?”
“Can’t rightly say that I have, sir.”
“Well let me assure you this is what it looks like, my boy. Those two are so smitten with each other they don’t give a care if the whole world is watching. I think it’s a holy marvel.”
David laughed good-naturedly and slapped Charles on the back. “Buy you a drink?”
“Why not?” the older man said. They walked toward the door to go and find a beverage.
“Where are you two off to?” Martha asked as the men passed by her.
“I’m going to get a drink of your fine Texas bourbon, Martha. Would you care to have one?” Charles asked.
“No, thank you kindly,” she replied. “I wouldn’t miss this serenade for the world. Been a long time since I seen one. But I wouldn’t say no if you gents wanted to bring me out a little snort.”
“Consider it done,” Charles said.
The waltz ended and everyone applauded James and Georgia’s romantic turn on the dance floor. They bowed gracefully in response and smiled happily. “C’mon, everybody. Let make this here serenade into a dance,” James said. “We got plenty room enough for it. Auntie, you’re next.” He walked over and held out his hand to Martha as the band struck up another waltz.
Charles and David returned with their drinks: the old man with a bourbon and David carrying a tall glass of water. Georgia walked over to her father. “Shall we dance, Daddy?”
“I would be delighted, my dear,” he said, putting down his drink and leading her out onto the dance floor.
* * *
As the westbound train rolled through the state of Kentucky, a lean and tall older man got on board and took a seat near the Wartons. He was wearing a western Stetson hat with cowboy boots, a suit, and vest. A watch chain hung out of his vest pocket. William noticed the Colt revolver slung in a holster on the man’s belt and couldn’t help but ask, “Are you a gunfighter, sir?”
The man smiled in amusement. “No, son. What makes you think that?”
“It’s that Colt revolver you’re carrying.”
When the man heard William’s eastern accent he replied, “It ain’t only gunfighters that carry revolvers in the west, son. You’ll find pretty much anyone can be packin’ one out here. Where you from?”
“Boston, sir.”
“Beantown, eh? I thought you might hail from there by the sound of your accent. You’re a long way from home then.”
“Yes, sir. We’re heading to Texas for my sister’s wedding. She’s marrying a county sheriff there.”
“Well, that sounds fine. All the best to her. My name’s Albert Murray.” He reached across the aisle and shook William’s hand.
“This is my brother, Elias, and my mother, Emilia,” William said.
Murray tipped his hat to Emilia. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am. Howdy, Elias,” he said cheerfully and shook hands with the younger man.
“Would you care to join us, Mr.
Murray? I’ve never met a real western man before,” William said excitedly.
“Oh please, Willy...don’t be such a daft schoolboy,” Elias murmured under his breath.
Murray chuckled. “Well, I’d be glad to oblige if you folks don’t mind.” The boys and their mother nodded permission for the stranger to join them. “Hope this here western man don’t disappoint you, young man; and thanks kindly for the invite, folks.” He stood up, stepped across the aisle, and sat in the vacant seat beside them. “If you don’t mind me askin’, how did your sister come to marry a sheriff in faraway Texas? That’s a fair stretch from Boston town.”
“She’s a mail-order bride,” Elias said scornfully.
“Well now, ain’t nothin’ wrong with that. Folks just got to be careful and get to know each other first, I reckon,” Murray replied.
“Yes, Mr. Murray,” Emilia said. “Georgia was very fortunate that she found a good man from a decent family. It was a great risk for her to answer that ad and it could have turned out very differently.”
“You’re sure right there, ma’am. I’m glad it worked out well for your daughter. I heard tell of a young woman from my corner of Kaintuck who weren’t so lucky as your Georgia was.”
“Oh, what happened?” Emilia asked, beginning to look concerned.
“I can see that your young lady has done well being a mail-order bride and that’s gladdens my heart, ma’am. It truly does. I don’t wanna spook you by tellin’ y’all what happened to poor Lizzie Barry.”
“Please, Mr. Murray, don’t keep us in suspense,” William said. “We’d like to hear it. We can handle it can’t we, Mother?” Emilia nodded and smiled, not wanting to disappoint her son. The boys settled into their seats and looked at Murray expectantly.
“All right then. If y’all are sure, I’ll tell you. Maybe it’ll help someone else down the line. Like I says, Lizzie Barry was from my corner of Kaintuck. I never met her but I heard what happened from some neighbors who knew her family. She was twenty-two years old and mighty upset at gettin’ up into spinster age. Well one day she decided to answer one of them bachelor’s ads in the newspaper. It was from a man in Californy – that’s what we in Kaintuck call ‘California,’ folks – from a miner called Louis Dreibelis. He said he was a lonely miner lookin’ for a wife. So after a short correspondence Elizabeth packed up her things and moved to California to marry him.”
“Sounds a lot like Georgia,” Elias sneered.
“It does not! Shut up, Elias,” William scolded him. “Please go on, Mr. Murray.”
“Lizzy was nearly at her destination when the stagecoach got held up by three masked-bandits. As bandits will do, they stole everything they could get their hands on. One of ‘em took pity on her though and didn’t take the girl’s luggage. She told him she was on her way to meet her husband-to-be, Louis Dreibelis, and her weddin’ dress was in the luggage plus everything she had to start a new life. So the bandit decided not to rob her. But she happened to notice a ragged scar on his hand.”
“Uh-oh, I smell a rat,” Elias said.
“Yes, sir,” Murray continued, “you got that right, young man. Later that day Lizzy reached Louis’s house, changed into her weddin’ gown, and straightaway both of ‘em went to see the Justice of the Peace. They was hotter than a pepper sprout to get themselves hitched. After they exchanged vows, Louis was signing the marriage license and his new wife noticed the same scar on his hand that she had seen on the robber.”
“Oh, my goodness,” Emilia exclaimed. “That’s terrible.”
“Yes ma’am, it surely is. You smelled a rat, Elias, and the poor woman done went and married him – because she didn’t know who he really was. Turned out that Louis was a miner – he didn’t lie to her about that – but he also liked to supplement his income by robbin’ stagecoaches. He left that part out of his little ad.”
“Oh come on, Albert,” Elias cackled, “you’ve got to be making this up!”
“I wish that I was, son – for poor Lizzie’s sake. But that’s how I heard it from a man who knew the Barry family. It’s a true story, far as I can tell.” Murray shook his head in sympathy for the unfortunate mail-order bride.
“What happened to the poor girl?” Emilia wondered.
“Well, she was so ashamed and embarrassed at being taken in, she hightailed it right out of there. No doubt it was the shortest marriage in the history of Californy. Yep, it was all over before the ink even dried. She didn’t come back to Kaintuck and no one knows where she ended up after that.”
“Probably a convent,” Emilia replied. “I would understand if she became a nun after that terrible incident.”
“Yes, ma’am, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Everyone fell silent, thinking about the sad and cautionary tale that had just been told. After a moment, Murray added a coda: “I reckon the moral of the story is to be sure that you know the person you’re gonna marry – and try to know ‘em well,” he said, looking directly at the two young men sitting on the train with him.
21
On a sunny late-August day James and Georgia rode up to the Golden Lane lookout. They tethered their horses in the usual spot and walked the rest of the way to the peak of the high limestone outcrop.
“Oh, this is so gorgeous up here! I can never get enough of the view,” she said.
“Yep, reckon I don’t mind it neither,” he agreed with a smile, gazing out on their ranch and the town of Sonora in the distance. “But it still ain’t half as beautiful as you are, darlin’. I would give it all up in a second for you.”
A poignant and bittersweet expression appeared on her face. “You already have, my love. I mean the way you and David agreed to sell the Golden Lane to pay the Warton family debt and all. Daddy is still in shock at your unbelievable generosity in doing that. And so am I, James. Words can’t express our thanks to you both. You’re utterly magnificent!”
James looked over at her and then down at his boots, seemingly embarrassed by the high praise. “To us it’s just what family does, Georgia. The moment I laid eyes on you I knew we was in it together for the long haul… even with you scramblin’ in your petticoats like that!” They both laughed at the memory of her arrival in Sonora. “I knew you were the one for me. So when we found out your daddy was in trouble financially, David and me didn’t hesitate. You’re family to us and it ain’t no hardship to help out.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, looking deeply into his eyes.
“Yep. And like I told your daddy: me and David are both young and full of vinegar yet. We’re up for the challenge of startin’ a new spread; got our eye on a place already.”
“You are an amazing man, James McCloud.”
“Naw,” he drawled humbly. “Just a standard-issue Texan, ma’am.”
She shook her head in admiration for the man. “Can I read you something?”
“Sure, what is it?”
“Turn around for a moment. I’ve got to reach into my petticoats again.”
“I hope it ain’t for a derringer,” James chuckled, turning away.
Georgia reached under her dress and retrieved an item that was tucked into the waistband. “Okay,” she said. He turned back toward her and saw a small book in her hands. “It’s a collection by the American poet, Walt Whitman. My dear friend Annabelle gave it to me before I left Boston. Have you ever heard of Whitman?”
“Sure I have. Just don’t ask me to quote you any, ‘cause I don’t know none.”
“That’s all right, honey. I’d love to read you one of his poems if you like. It describes the way I feel about you in a way that I could never express myself. Is that okay?”
He smiled at her and nodded. “Sure, go ahead. I’m all ears.”
“Okay, here goes,” she said a little nervously, opening the book to a page she had marked and holding it up in front of her face. “The poem is called ‘I Sing the Body Electric.’”
“Don’t hold it too high, darlin’,” he said, “I want to see your face when you’re
readin’.”
“All right,” Georgia replied, lowering the book a little and beginning to read aloud:
“‘The love of the body of man or woman balks account,
the body itself balks account,
That of the male is perfect, and that of the female is perfect.
The expression of the face balks account,
But the expression of a well-made man appears not only in his face,
It is in his limbs and joints also,
It is curiously in the joints of his hips and wrists,
It is in his walk, the carriage of his neck, the flex of his waist and knees,
Caught Between Love And Duty Page 18
